


No heart of stone

by Buggirl



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buggirl/pseuds/Buggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“There are no elements so diverse that they cannot be joined in the heart of a man.”</i> - Jean Giraudoux.</p><p>Written for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang - Dorn Cadash, Carta thug and thief in the night seeks advice on courting the Lady Seeker, Cassandra Pentaghast, from an unlikely source - The Iron Bull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire

_He came out of fire, but he wasn’t a dragon. Burnt bodies and the wreck of the temple lay behind him as he stumbled towards the guards nearby. Where was the woman who helped him? His greatest fear chased him from the acrid smoke and burning remains of those around him. He fell forward into the light and then into darkness._

_When he came to, he found himself chained and in dim light from two small torches that lit his cell. He was used to this, his eyes accustomed quickly to the shadows. The chains held his legs and his hands were locked in to the stone so he could not move far from the spot where he currently sat. When they arrived they asked what happened, but he could barely recall his own name._

_Cadash? Yes that was it that was his name. Dorn Cadash._

_The two women who came to him in his cell, one was hooded and stood off to the side, the other loud, accusing and angry. He was used to anger, his mother, his father, his siblings and to a degree within himself, always had building rage. When the loud angry one grabbed him by the scruff of the neck he did not feel fear. That changed when he was hauled out to the light, when he saw the hole in the sky, and his hand flared in pain – his skin glowing, reacting to the flashes that came and went._

That was months ago, how much had changed in that time. He’d gone from chained and dangerous prisoner to helping with this – Inquisition for whatever it was worth. They gave him the name ‘Herald of Andraste’, a title he eschewed for himself, but nevertheless let others think and call him as they want. He was now ‘Lord Cadash’ and it was more than once he had swallowed an ale and laughed at the title.

He’d taken to his new role with more zest than he originally thought, he didn’t know if it was the mark on his hand that propelled him forward, the others around him forcing him to perform or whether something inside himself emerged that was previously hidden.

Nine siblings will do that. 

“Nine? That is bloody ridiculous. Is there nothing to do underground but eat, drink and fuck?” Sera said.

“Well, sometimes we fuck, drink and then eat,” Dorn replied. “My parents were unusual. They actually loved each other. Not like these noble dwarf families marrying and breeding for money, title and gain.”

A scowl formed on Sera’s face. “If dwarven nobles are as bad as human ones, then fuck them.”

“Indeed.” Dorn raised his tankard. “I have more than once.”

Sera snorted and took a large sip of her drink.

“Where are you in line, Boss?” Bull said.

“I am number nine. Makes me a good spy.” Dorn replied.

“Does it now? How so?” Bull tilted his head and pursed his lips together in a doubting grin.

“You doubt me, Bull?” He placed his hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Our parents loved us all but you are never noticed being number nine child. I was always called on to creep into places where other dwarves feared to go. I guess I’ve been brazen and gotten away with it. Maybe--” He looked down at his hand and the mark that was faint in his palm. “Maybe this is payback for all the mischief I’ve done.”

“You are the Herald. Whether that came by accident or through divine decree doesn’t matter. I doubt it is payment for wrongdoing.” Blackwall glanced briefly at his own hand that held the tankard. “What matters is what you do with it.” He took a swig of ale and cast his eyes downward.

“Aye, you are right there Warden. I guess I am the ‘Herald’ but what that means I still don’t know or even understand.” He glanced back to his hand again. This was something else, and he wasn’t convinced that it was a good thing.

He stood to leave the small and busy tavern. He liked the barkeeps pretty face and walked over to tip her some extra coin before departing. 

“Thank you, your worship, but there is no--”

“You keep the town happy, you deserve it,” he replied to her protestations.

She smiled as Dorn turned and nodded farewell to his companions. He’d tried to stay relatively sober for much of his time here, but this place called Haven, felt far from its namesake. It was cold and wet and the sky was so-- by the Paragons -- open. However, he had found solace in odd company -- an elf, a qunari and a strange human they found by a lake. These three felt like outsiders, much like himself. There was little solace in anything or with anyone else and without stone and dirt above his head sleep was never guaranteed.

He hadn’t realized how tired he was or how much he had drunk until he hit the night air. The alcoholic mist surrounding his brain was stricken from him with a slap of the coldest of wind gusts. Part of the weariness he held came from work, chasing bears, closing rifts, fighting demons, not to mention the never ending discussions with Fereldan and Orlesian nobility. And then there was the sleeping outdoors. He shivered and looked down at his hand again. “Curse you. Why are you here?”

“Excuse me?”

Dorn looked up to see Cassandra staring at him with her hands on her hips. He hadn’t noticed her when he had stumbled from the tavern that he’d only been a few paces behind her. She had an accusatory glare, one that never seemed to dissipate when he was with her. 

“Was that aimed at me?” She tilted her head.

“Oh no, no I was merely talking to myself,” he slurred.

Her features softened and she turned back on her walk to the Chantry.

He followed behind wordlessly, having lost his chain of thought and not wanting to risk even talking with her until she turned her head and spoke again.

“The tavern must be warm on nights like this,” she said.

Dorn stepped up his pace to walk beside her. “Yes it is. Very warm.”

“I would very much like to join you some time, if it pleases you.”

Dorn couldn’t help but splutter a laugh. “You would?”

“Yes, why would I not?” There was an indignant tone to her voice.

“But of course you can join me. I just didn’t think you would like that sort of thing.”

“What do you mean by ‘that sort of thing’? I very much like to warm myself by the fire inside and out just like everyone else.”

“Well, the things we folk do in a tavern, drinking. Talking with people. Talking mostly rubbish, and drinking. Did I say drinking? Also The Iron Bull, Sera and Warden Blackwall are often with me.” Dorn gazed up at Cassandra to see earnestness in her face.

“I would. I like honeyed wine, I like songs and I like to talk with people, to listen of their adventures. I like dragons and tales of fighting them and all the Wardens I’ve met are honorable.”

“You do? Dragons? Fires and fighting? You like tales that talk about those sorts of things?” He raised his eyebrows. 

Cassandra nodded “I am a warrior, of course I do.” 

They walked in silence to the chantry building.

“Goodnight--.” Cassandra paused “You did mean it?”

Dorn shook his head confused. “Mean what?”

“That I could join you and the others for a drink on a cold night?” She folded her hands in front of her.

“Of course, I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” By this stage, Dorn felt his confusion only grow. The Lady Cassandra wanting to spend time with him, in a tavern, drinking. 

“Well then, goodnight, Lord Cadash.” She turned and headed for her room.

Dorn stood blinking in the cold air. He thought he saw her smile and her eyes blaze in the cold mountain moonlight. But then he remembered he was intoxicated and tomorrow the scowl, the disapproving looks, icy stares and disgusted noises would return. 

“Goodnight Lady Cassandra,” he said, his voice inaudible and unclear but she was already gone.

Dwarves didn’t dream, but since the anchor, he had fleeting memories from events during the night, when he knew he was asleep. They had been disturbing in tone, darkness and demons and the sky opening up and swallowing him whole. Most nights, sleep had not come easy-- not unless he was inebriated. Tonight at least he would have a belly of ale to help him, but he would also have something else, a memory of fire in a pair of lovely brown eyes. Tomorrow he was sure he would wake with a smile on his face.


	2. Water

_He came out of the snow and the ice, but he wasn’t a dragon. Bodies and the wreck of Haven lay behind him as he stumbled through the abandoned mineshaft. There was an odour of Sulphur and metal surrounding him that he was sure was drifting in from the surface. It smelt of death and devastation. This time there would be no one to guide him, no spectral vision aside from swirls of snow as it drifted past him. For now he was safe, he was underground, he could deal with that. He still had his stone sense, a gift he clung too when he felt he would fall into the sky. It would guide him out of these tunnels. However, the path through the mountain the others had taken would be trickier._

_This time he did remember his name, Dorn Cadash, Carta thug and thief in the night._

_He muttered a curse under his breath when he tripped and fell. The Ancestors were not looking favourably on him today, nor does it seem most of his life. Curse these demons, curse his hand. He stumbled through the shaft, until he reached the exit. Outside a blizzard raged and he thought for a moment to stay in the cave._

_Snow and sleet blinded him, one campsite after the next hidden in trees until he hit one that still had a degree of warmth in it. Exhaustion hit him, dwarven legs are not used to snowdrifts that come past your hip. When he fell, he’s not sure whose face he saw. Lady Cassandra?_

This wooing business was not going well for Dorn. How the hell does a dwarf, a thief and a rogue deal with courtship?

Should he speak with Varric? No, there was no love lost between him and Cassandra the man would just laugh. The Warden then? He didn’t know if he knew anything about women, he alluded to bedding a few when at the tavern and when he asked he told him there was more to being a warrior than just fighting, but that was all. Cullen was man used to nobles among us. But, he’d seen him around women and it was positively frightening how fast the man went from confident commander to burning cheek youth. He knew Josephine might be approachable on the topic, but then again he found her as utterly intimidating as the Lady Cassandra. And Dorian, he had a way with romance, but the playful mage had teased him about how red in the face he got whenever Cassandra was around, he’s not sure he could ask him without it being an embarrassing mess.

Since the revelation of the fate of the missing seekers he had flirted with her so many times she had confronted him on the subject late one afternoon. He was clear, as much as he could be and she in turn was flustered and adorable. There was no way he would back down from trying to be the ‘right sort of man’ to court her. He knew he would have to persist now she’d shown her own interest in the idea.

The Iron Bull. It would have to be. There was no one else who could possibly advise him on his next steps.

“Bull, can I have a word?” Dorn asked. His words tentative and he looked around the tavern furtively.

“Sure, Boss. What do you need?” Bull leaned back and crossed his arms.

“I’ve some advice to ask, if I may?” His voice was low so that others might not hear.

Bull nodded. “Ask away.”

Dorn ran his fingers through his hair. “How would one-- woo-- gah. How would one woo a Lady?”

Bull’s laugh was raucous. Loud enough to attract the attention of the few in the tavern, including his Chargers. Dorn felt a dozen eyes boring into the back of his shaved skull.

“Yes, yes I know it’s hilarious.” Dorn crossed his hands over his chest.

“I’m sorry, Boss that was kind of mean. No disrespect. Why did you ask me? You’ve been with other women before.”

“I know I have, just-- not one of noble birth. And I know nothing of courtship. I know how to flatter, but I usually have a tankard in one hand and the other hand roaming.”

“Ah I see. What makes you think I would?”

“I guess I thought--” Dorn thumbed his ear and bit his cheek.

“Sorry, Boss. I’m teasing. I might know a thing or two if it’s the Lady Cassandra you seek to court.”

“How did you know?”

Bull raised his brow. “Ben-Hassrath, remember. But you’re rather obvious about it. I mean all she does is step into the room and you’re stealing little glances here and there.”

“Oh right yes.” Dorn stifled a nervous laugh. “Yes it’s Cassandra I wish to court, I guess it shows.”

“First thing first Boss. Has she told you to piss off?”

“Well, not in so many words.” He shuffled his feet. “But she did say that to court her would be impossible.”

“I see.”

“But then she said she wants flowers and poetry and for a man to sweep her off her feet. I’m a lowly dwarf. A criminal. I don’t know how to do these bloody things.”

Bull stifled a laugh. “I see.” He stroked his chin. “First thing is she hasn’t told you to piss off. When a woman like Cassandra tells you to back off, you back off. But that’s not what she wants. She’s already told you in part what she wants, how about giving it to her.”

“But how? I-- How do I measure up to such a task? What if it’s—wrong?” 

“You like Cassandra? Love her even?”

“Yes, that’s obvious and why I’m here.”

“There’s only one place to look for all you need then.”

“Where? Val Royeaux? Or somewhere else? Redcliffe?” He shook his head. 

“Boss--”

“What could possibly be in Redcliffe?” He placed a finger on his lips in contemplation.

“Boss--” Bull said louder.

“It would have to be Val Royeaux, yes?” He looked expectantly at Bull.

Bull sighed. “Well Boss, you may get the trimmings for the romance in those places but I’m talking about somewhere else.”

“Where then?”

Bull gave a reserved smile and pointed poked his finger into Dorn’s chest. “There.”

Dorn rubbed his cheek and blinked looking confused.

“Oh for the love of--” Bull shook his head in disbelief. “Your heart. That’s where you’ll find what you need.”

“Oh.” He scratched his head and felt his chest tighten.

“Look, Boss. She’s told you what she wants, give her your heart.”

Dorn nodded. “Okay, I guess maybe thinking on that--”

“No, no thinking. Just give it to her. Give her the poetry, the flowers, wrap it up in your -- in your -- heart.”

Dorn continued to nod and biting his lip. “I think I can do that, yes.”

“Now, go get her.”

“Yes -- yes, I’ll do just that.” Dorn’s chest puffed out a little and he strode from the tavern leaving Bull blinking and shaking his head in his wake.

The confusion returned on exiting the tavern. It would take some preparation on his behalf, a poetry book, a small posy of flowers and candles of course, lots of candles, if he had time, maybe some Orlesian chocolate even, Ladies liked chocolate, he was sure of that. Maybe Cassandra wouldn’t like it? He shook his head. Okay no chocolate then. But his heart? How was that going to play out?

It took a week and a little nerve on his behalf for him to finally approach her and ask her to come to the small grove outside of Skyhold. His heart beat fast in his chest when he asked her. She had appeared quiet and contemplative but agreed to come, even though she sounded skeptical.

The grove was small and intimate a setting built for two, he’d laid a trail of candles along the path leading into the small space and he hoped for one, that nothing would catch fire, for he always felt he was the type of man where things often caught fire. At least for being so high in the mountain, it felt warm within the grove itself.

He hummed to himself, a habit of old when going into battle. This was as close as he felt to treading into dangerous territory, but he calmed himself with thoughts of the hint of a smile that crossed her face when he had asked her to join him.

He stood facing into the grove, hidden by the foliage of a tree that was ready to shed its autumn leaves.

There was a rustle and light footsteps as Cassandra stepped tentatively past his hidden form.

He walked out as calmly as he could and began to recite the poem.

She laughed and he got down on bended knee. 

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, my beautiful Lady Seeker--“

“Oh stop, you.” She pulled at her collar and her cheeks turned crimson.

“You light the way for me - shall we read another?” He titled his head and smiled.

There was a pause and his eyes washed over her face, her cheeks still flush. His heart beat faster at every second delay. He was about to ask again, but she had leapt into his arms and he fell backwards in surprise. 

Their kisses were soft and tender. He ran a calloused finger along the scar on her cheek, and followed with a kiss. She sighed as his hands slid down to her hips. His fingers slipped within the waistband of her pants to stroke the soft skin of her stomach and he mumbled into her now open shirt as she exhaled. His head swam with desire and affection as her hands delved underneath cloth and caressed the hair on his chest.

Finally he, Dorn Cadash, lowly child of the stone, had played his cards right and here she was, and there were as one. The occasional breeze that reminded them of their lofty mountain position did not touch him, for tonight, there was nothing but the heat of skin on skin, exertion and exhilaration from longing, but, most of all, the fact she lay in _his_ arms, was all that mattered.


	3. Air

_He came out of the fade, but he wasn’t a dragon. Bodies and the wreck of Adamant lay behind him. As he stumbled through the hole his first thought is of Cassandra, she was ahead of him he was sure but he couldn’t see her through the fog of fire, death and demons._

_He muttered a curse under his breath when he tripped and fell. Behind him, the Nightmare and the man known as Caleb Hawke. Was he a good man? Varric had thought so. He was the last to stumble through the rift. Outside the calamity of what stood as a war between wardens and inquisition soldiers continued. Some days he thought better of coming to the surface, today was one of those days. For now he was safe, for now, his love was safe. He held out his hand and grasping desperately for hers when he managed to see her ahead of him. The look on her face spoke more than any words uttered._

_The fade had confused and confounded him, a dwarf who previously had never dreamed thrown into a Nightmare, epic in scale. One thing he did know, he was Dorn Cadash, Carta thug and thief in the night, and this was his love Cassandra Pentaghast._

It’s a quiet night on the Skyhold’s ramparts. Dorn found the longer he was here the less he feared the sky above, the clouds no longer the puffy beds he first thought of them as, the moon a bright light no longer swallowed him whole. For much of his time here and before he had felt like a ridiculous man. A man without purpose and a fool to have left the safety of life under stone. He looked at his hand and then at the sky. Would this eventually kill him? 

“Dorn,” Cassandra’s voice was soft and melded with the breeze.

He took her hand and kissed it long before wrapping his arm around her waist. “What is it my Lady Seeker?”

“May we speak in private?”

“Sounds serious.”

She laughed and kissed his forehead. “It is, a little, but I think before we head to that temple in the Arbor wilds, we must speak about what will come after all of this.”

“A longed for party I’m hoping, my love.”

“Besides that.” She brushed her hands over his shoulders much like she was moving imaginary dust from him.

Dorn looked to her and tilted his head. “You are, serious. Tell me love.”

“It is about the Seekers. You suggested that I -- reform them. But do you realise what that might mean?”

“I think I do, what do you think it means?” His hands caressed her waist as he spoke.

“What it means is that I after it all ends, however it ends, good or bad I must leave your side to deal with what is left of the order.” 

Dorn noticed her eyes sparkling in the moonlight and realise that they were glistening with tears. He held her tighter. “But this is good thing, we won’t be that far apart. What is it about it that makes you sad?”

“I will have to leave you during my reformation efforts. I know this now. But I don’t want to burden your thoughts--”

“Hey, what are you talking about my dear, Lady Seeker. Where ever you are, you are also here.” He pointed to his heart. “When I courted you I had some advice given to me, I lead with my heart and look where it got me.”

She looked away her cheeks flushed red. His hand went to her face.

“I may be a child of the stone but I am not made of stone. Having had you by my side I am no longer frightened to fall into the sky.”

“Then -- you don’t mind?” she stammered.

“You’re coming back, right?” His brow raised expectantly.

“Of course. Even a dragon in my path wouldn’t stop me.”

He could smell her perfume, floral and a hint of leather he breathed them in like a thirsty man drinks from flask of the purest water. “Then no, I don’t mind.”

“I am glad to hear that, my Lord.”

Dorn smiled. To hear her call him that felt oddly satisfying given how much he’d turned his back on it since coming out from the fade. Cassandra shivered and Dorn’s hand rubbed her thigh. “I know where there is somewhere warm for you, Lady Seeker. It’s rather crowded though. They have honeyed wine, so I hear.”

“Then, my Lord, perhaps we should go there, the night will not get any warmer.”

Dorn took her hand and led her down the ramparts to the tavern. Inside there was music and laughter and in one corner sat Bull and his Chargers.

“Well my friends, an ale?”

“If the Inquisitor so chooses,” Bull said.

The Chargers looked to one another and nodded.

Dorn held Cassandra’s hand. He had eyes for no other and barely noticed as the Chargers, one by filed away for the evening until it was he, Cassandra and Bull left. Music still played but the bard had gone. A lone dwarf in the corner picked at a lute, soft and sweet sounds.

“Tell me Bull, what will you do when this is all over? Will you and the Chargers stay together?”

Bull hummed. “I have my mercenaries, I have a place, of sorts. And will stay as long as you need me too, Boss. Although I have reasons to head to Tevinter.”

“With Dorian I presume?”

Bull barked out a laugh. “It seems, Boss, that my spy skills may have rubbed off on you.”

A smug smile passed over Dorn’s face.

The wind blew the door open allowing Dorian to make a dramatic entrance. Bull turned and nodded to Dorn and Cassandra. “Come, you big lug!” Dorian yelled from the door.

Dorn turned to Cassandra. “I know of another warm place. It has an open fire, there is fine honeyed wine and a very large bed with the finest woven and warm blankets. A short irreverent man currently hogs the space, but if a Lady were to join him, I’m sure he’d make space for her. And of course, make her as comfortable as possible.”

Cassandra trailed a hand over his ear and licked her lips. She took his hand and led him out the tavern door, trailing behind Bull and Dorian. They walked slowly across the lower courtyard and up the stairs to the great hall.


	4. Earth

_He came out of the eluvian, but he wasn’t a dragon. Corypheus and doom upon all the world he thought behind him. This wasn’t fire at the foot of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It wasn’t the icy cold of the town of Haven buried in snowdrifts and besieged by foes. Nor was it the nightmare of the fade, where demons lived and your worse fears were real. This was duplicity in its purest form. This was where revelations lived but where no redemption was sought._

_He muttered a loud curse, not afraid of letting the world hear him as the pain of the anchor burned through his arm. He always knew this would kill him, and here he was alone, he would return to dust without his love without his friends. He stood surrounded by stone qunari warriors and kneeling before Solas as the elf revealed his plan._

_“Live well while time remains.”_

_With those words ringing in his ears he stumbled back through the eluvian to his waiting companions. He could see horror in Cassandra’s eyes as he knelt at her feet. A broken eluvian cut through his leathers to tear at the skin of his knees but the only pain he felt was from his dying arm. He cried out then bowed his head. In the shards that surrounded him, he saw his own face, that of Dorn Cadash, Carta thug and thief in the night, it was contorted with pain and marked with fear._

For several days Dorn remained bed ridden. He’d fallen into a fever after coming out of the eluvian and the Empress, and all those gathered for the Exalted Council, had insisted that the best healers of Orlais be called. Several converged on the Winter Palace in order to deal with the Inquisitor’s arm. Whilst they argued what to do, he woke briefly and held the one thing that kept him looking towards the light, Cassandra’s hand.

“Tell them-- tell them to cut the damn thing off,” he said before falling back into the last sleep that would contain dreams.

When he woke, it was gone. With it went the severe ache and a feeling of purposelessness set in. He felt nauseous and his whole body was stiff with pain. 

The room was empty but he could hear the background noise of early morning at the Palace. The window was open and he staggered from the bed to the small balcony, cradling his stump. He kept glancing down to where the anchor should have been, but it was no longer there. He was alive, for now, but the revelations of the past few days would need time to process. 

There was birdsong, and a quiet breeze. He could hear laughter coming up from below and he tensed and began to sweat. His hand balled tight as he looked over the railing but could see no figures. 

A noise behind him told him someone had entered the room. He walked back inside and an elven servant stood patiently by the door with a heavy tray.

“My Lord, would you like breakfast?”

He put his hand to his temple and nodded with a weak smile as she placed it on the small dining table that was near the balcony entrance. He turned his back to her and looked out the balcony doors again. 

“My Lord.”

He turned to the servant who stood with her hands folded in front of her. “If I might say, My Lord, many of us are glad you are here and that you live.” She bowed her head and left as quietly as she had entered.

Dorn, who had said nothing during the exchange stared at the closing door and bit his lip. There was a pall that came over him, and he couldn’t explain how he felt, suffice to say it was a mixture of anger and grief.

Anger for betrayal, grief for everything he had lost, not just the physical. He looked down at his arm and felt a tingle of where the hand should be. He’d heard about this before, those who had lost a limb had often felt like it was still there.

He sat down at the small table and examined the trays contents. Sweet bread fresh from the Palace bakery, cured meats, pickles and poached fruit and what looked to be some sort of tea. He sighed and began the laborious process of trying to eat with one limb. He was slow at first, sweet rolls could not be buttered so easily with one hand. Tea was easier, but he was used to grabbing food in one hand and drink in the other. He felt his jaw clench as he tried to focus.

He began to talk to himself. “This hand, here move it this way, yes like that you fool, no, by the stone.” He continued muttering throughout that he didn’t hear the door open.

“Dorn.” Cassandra’s voice was soft.

He closed his eyes at the welcoming sound, frustrated at listening to himself. “Cassandra.”

“I was told you were awake, finally. You don’t mind me--”

“Never.” He shook his head violently. “I am glad you are here. Come sit.” He stretched his hand out to her.

“How are you feeling?” Her eyes wandered over his face.

“Terrible, awful, sore, frustrated, angry.”

She put a hand to her face and stifled a small sob. “I am thankful the Maker saw fit to keep you here with us.” her hand brushed the back of her neck. 

“I am sorry I will not be much company, in the short term anyway.” He waved his stump in circles. He saw her look away for a brief moment and a fear greater than any foe hit him, what if she leaves me because of this? “What is it?”

“I have unpleasant news, when you are able, the Exalted Council wish one last meeting before we depart for Skyhold. They want--”

Cassandra jumped when Dorn banged his fist on the table spilling the tea and sending the cutlery clattering to the floor. “I will give them what they bloody well want then.”

“You will disband the inquisition then.”

“Aye, I will.”

He wanted to feel the earth beneath his fingernails, dirt and grime and the solid footing of stone beneath his feet. He wanted out of this mask of faux human nobility, and to shed the façade of hero. Most of all, he wanted to turn back time and never have gone to the Divine Conclave, even if that meant he would be alone. 

He smiled in contrast to his inner turmoil. It felt like it might be the last time he would do so until he left this Ancestor forsaken place.


	5. Heart

Five months had passed and he had remained at Skyhold all that time. The inquisition disbanded. What the Exalted Council didn’t know was that they still worked behind the scenes. Leliana, the spymaster, now Divine, would send information when she could. Dagna and Sera along with the Red Jennys did the same. However, it would soon be time to leave, to find another stronghold and wait until news of the elf Solas came to them. Dorian and Bull were headed to Tevinter. They would be their eyes in the Imperium. There were others, the Wardens, were allies too, and a companion, the murderer Thom Rainier was one now, and with Cassandra rebuilding the Seekers, they had some support, although it would take a while for them to be fully on their feet. 

There was disquiet in himself-- something a lifetime of experiences squeezed into a few years can give a man. Dorn was no longer the simple dwarf who had been the wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had grown and learnt many things. First was that the winner will tell the tale, whether in a bards song, or from the pen of a bestselling Viscount. Second, that those who seek redemption will often find it in the strangest of places, whether in a hangman’s noose or in a goblet of finest darkspawn blood. Thirdly, that compassion will cure more sins than condemnation. Fourthly, that friendship, and even the deepest of love, can germinate from dislike and distrust. Finally, he learnt that the most loyal of followers could always betray you, and cut you deep enough to wound and maim you beyond healing.

It’s with these thoughts he sits in the grove behind Skyhold, his absent limb growing itchy. 

There are footsteps and he knows who has followed him, although there is no trail of candles, no guiding light or poetry and flowers.

He smiled when she drew near. “You have returned,” he said and held out his hand.

She took it and held it tight before bringing it to her mouth and lingered with a kiss. “I will always return.”

“I am glad you are here. I think we shall be moving shortly.”

“Josephine has told me of the two places she thinks may be suitable for our needs.”

He nodded. “Away from the prying eyes of Orlais and Fereldan, far from the machinations of The Free Marches and of course far from Orzammer.”

“Do you wish to visit there before we go?” she asked.

Dorn shook his head. “There was a time where I thought I would want to return. However, now, not so much. It has been a long time, and although my family is there, things have changed.” He tilted his head up for a kiss.

Cassandra obliged, her lips soft and eager, his sad and hungry for more. 

“Tell me, your Seekers, how do they fare?”

“They are good, better and growing stronger day by day.”

“One of the better things I have heard for a while.”

They remained for what felt like eternity, comfort in each other’s company was all they needed sometimes and no words were necessary to convey the deep feelings they held.

“Is there news -- of the apostate?” Cassandra finally asked.

“Only small trails, elves have been disappearing is all the information we have.”

“Then we keep searching, we cannot afford to wait.” There was steel in her voice when she spoke.

“We may have no choice.” He bought her in closer for a kiss. When their lips parted, their foreheads remained pressed together.

When his eyes opened, he could see her searching his face. “What are you looking for, Cassandra?”

“And I am looking for-- for--” her hand brushed his neck. “I am looking for hope and happiness; I am looking for peace for you and I.”

“So am I, my love, so am I.” 

_He was never a dragon, but many thought that he was. He had waged war on evil, fought fire, water, air and earth, and when all were defeated, he thought that the battle had ended. He could never go back to the Carta. He could never be Dorn Cadash, Carta thug and thief in the night. He was more than just a child of stone, for his heart was never as hard. They all knew there was still a campaign to be fought, and he knew that by his side would be his love, Cassandra Pentaghast._


End file.
